


Death by Express, or The Affair of the Flying Train

by mundungus42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Destruction, Drowning, F/M, Literary References & Allusions, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 21:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mundungus42/pseuds/mundungus42
Summary: The Hogwarts Express is sabotaged, and a passenger is found dead. Minerva McGonagall must team up with Magical Law Enforcement to investigate. She finds that all is not as it seems. Inspired by Agatha Christie's "Murder on the Orient Express."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWitch/gifts).



> This story was written for the 2016 round of the SSHG Giftfest on Livejournal for MyWitch, who provided the prompt, "Murder on the Hogwarts Express." Additionally, it was requested by the recipient that the story contain no spoilers for "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child." Since this is a completed work that was written to the recipient's prompt and specifications, concrit is not being solicited.

It happened on a Tuesday. 

Had it been a regular school year, the Hogwarts Express would have run on Monday, but the usual end-of-term activities, exams, O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s had been interspersed with over a month's worth of speeches, memorials, and dedications in honour of the twentieth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Every guest room in the castle, not to mention a number of rooms that had been somewhat hastily converted, was filled with visiting dignitaries, and the Great Hall had been magically expanded in order to accommodate everybody at the traditional Leaving Feast. Apart from some fatuous Gryffindor grumbling that their sixth House Cup victory in a row had been overshadowed by the proceedings, everything had gone to the Headmistress's satisfaction.

She herself was at Hogsmeade Station that Tuesday, chatting with former students and numerous notables who had made arrangements to take the Hogwarts Express back to London. Minerva did not share their nostalgia for the noisy, inefficient conveyance or the quality of pumpkin pasties for sale. Though she supposed that was to be expected, given that she'd ridden the Express more times than she cared to count over the years.

After wishing Kevin Entwhistle—Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? She was mortified that she couldn't remember— a safe journey, she glanced at the first-class carriages that had been added to the train and was unsurprised to see Lucius Malfoy boarding, resplendent in silver-embroidered green velvet, escorting his wife. She stifled her huff of disapproval when she saw Malfoy extend his hand to assist a visiting scholar who hadn't spoken a word to her all week, and Lydia Ollivander, who had sold Minerva her first wand all those years ago.

Her hand strayed to her pocket to run her fingers over its smooth wooden surface as she walked down towards the student carriages, where the students and less self-important adults were boarding. There were three generations of Weasleys in a noisy clump, the teenagers attempting to hide their embarrassment over the presence of their relations. And the Potters, of course. Harry now had strands of silver in his messy hair and his boyish face had hardened, but he was still quick to smile and returned Minerva's nod before he and his wife departed for the Apparation point on High Street.

Little Dennis Creevey was unsubtly taking a photograph of himself in front of Donaghan Tremlett, whose attempts to Shrink his bass guitar case for the journey were being interrupted by a mixed crowd of Weird Sisters fans.

At last, a trio of conductors shouted for everyone to board, trunks and cages were hastily loaded, last-minute hugs and kisses were exchanged, and the crowd on the platform began to thin, leaving mostly families who would be Apparating from Hogsmeade, and Arnie Bulger, who owned the broomstick repair shop in town, and was sorting through the school broomsticks that Minerva brought him for servicing at the end of every term. 

To her surprise, she spied her old friend Severus Snape deep in conversation with Hermione Granger near an enormously full luggage trolley, which Hermione's ex-husband had presumably left her when he took their children to say goodbye to their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Minerva instinctively tucked herself against a lamppost so as not to be obvious about eavesdropping.

“-given up on this foolhardy idea,” Severus said, his scowl clearly audible in his voice.

“Even if I agreed with you, which I don't, I have no desire to discuss it with you,” Hermione replied. “There really is nothing to be done.”

“We shall see.”

“You've no right to interfere,” said Hermione, her voice low and furious.

“Haven't I?” asked Severus.

“No, you haven't,” said Hermione. “And if you try, I cannot be held responsible for what happens.”

“And I cannot be held responsible for any complications that you failed to account for,” said Severus darkly. “Good day, Miss Granger.”

Severus swept off towards the first-class carriages and mounted the steps, leaving Minerva to wonder why on earth Severus thought it wise to bait the head of Magical Law Enforcement. Hermione tutted, Levitated the trunks with an elegant flourish of her wand, and stomped up the steps of the first student carriage.

The carriage doors slammed shut after her, and the conductors made one final sweep of the platform before boarding themselves. The whistle shrieked, and slowly, majestically, the train began to move, sending steam billowing across the platform.

As the last Carriage Cleared the platform, Minerva felt her heart grow lighter with the satisfaction of having successfully completed both the school year and the anniversary celebrations. It had been no mean feat, and Minerva was very much looking forward to summer. As the rhythmic chug and clack began to fade in the distance, Minerva's thoughts turned towards the Three Broomsticks and a celebratory drink, until Arnie Bulger gave a strangled shout.

“Headmistress! The train!”

Minerva spun around to look, and to her shock, the Hogwarts Express had gained top speed and was rising sharply into the air, like a scarlet cobra about to strike.

“Sound the alarm!” she shouted, seizing one of the less-abused school brooms from Arnie's pile, gripping her wand between her teeth, and kicking off the ground.

The broom's balance was slightly off, but it was one of the relatively new Hurricane Sixes that Puddlemere United had donated to the school, and the Headmistress shot towards the Express at dizzying speed.

The train was now completely airborne and veering away from the tracks. Minerva's knuckles tightened around her broom's handle when she realised that it was flying towards the school. 

As she zoomed towards the Express, she noticed that the trolley witch, who had been selling sweets on the Hogwarts Express as long as she could remember, was pushing her trolley along the tracks far below, looking somewhat bereft.

She had no time to reflect on this as she flew along the length of the train, trying to hold back her fury at seeing all the terrified faces of her students pressed against the windows. She pulled alongside the locomotive and through the side window she could see the driver with his back against the wall of the cab, clinging to the handle of the coal bunker for dear life.

Minerva pulled her wand from her teeth, Vanished the glass from the window, pulled in her elbows, and flew into the cab.

“Get hold of yourself, man!” she shouted at the driver over the whistling wind.

“I can't stand heights!”

“What made this happen?”

“There's something under the train pushing us upward, but I don't know what. Besides, we're too high! Even if we stopped it we'd all fall.”

“Have you tried the brakes?”

“What?”

“The brakes! Oh for pity's sake! Just tell me where they are!”

He raised a shaking hand to a cable running along the side of the engine room, and Minerva seized it and pulled with all her strength.

There was a shriek of metal on metal as the wheels of the train were forced into stillness, but it had no effect on their speed. Perhaps more direct measures were called for.

She threw open the door to the firebox and was met with a blast of unbearable heat.

 _“Aguamenti!”_ she shouted, shooting a jet of water into the flames.

Steam blasted outward, forcing her to protect her face with the sleeve of her robe, but she held on to the water streaming out of her wand until the fire was completely quenched. Unfortunately, there was no immediate effect.

However, something shifted in Minerva's stomach, and she realised that they were no longer ascending, but descending at great velocity. They were now above the Quidditch pitch and terrifyingly close to the castle.

“We've got to get everybody out!” shouted Minerva.

“We can't! There's too much magic keeping people in!” said the driver, whose eyes were now screwed shut. “Merlin, we're all for it!”

“Not if I can help it,” said Minerva, re-securing her hat to her head and mounting the Hurricane once more.

Once out of the cab, Minerva veered sharply upwards, attempting to determine precisely where the train would end up, given its current downward trajectory, and felt a complicated mix of relief and fear when she realised that the Hogwarts Express would not be colliding with the school, but rather coming down in the middle of the lake.

She cast a Sonorus Charm on herself.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” she said, “please remain calm and listen to me. The Hogwarts Express will be making an emergency water landing momentarily. Take only your wands and non-flying familiars, and exit through the compartment windows when I give the order to jump. If you have luggage in the racks, Levitate it into the corridor and close your compartment door to prevent yourselves from being injured by it. Release all avian familiars now.”

Minerva saw a flurry of activity inside the train. A handful of windows on her side of the train exploded, presumably from Reductor Curses, and a flurry of owls took flight. She could see the surface of the lake rippling just ahead and swallowed hard.

“Exit through a window or door before the train hits the water. If you cannot swim, raise your wand and someone will assist you. If your window isn't already open, please open or break it on my count and jump as soon as you see water below you. Three. Two. One. Now!”

Windows exploded in a satisfying burst of glass, there was a flash of green light from the very front of the train, and passengers began leaping from the windows into the water below.

“NOW!” bellowed Minerva.

The locomotive slammed into the lake with a spectacular crash, sending an enormous plume of water into the air. There were deafening cracks of wood shattering and squeals of metal twisting out of shape as the carriages were crushed up against the locomotive, their orderly line collapsing on itself.

To Minerva's horror, the green light rose into the air and coalesced into a symbol she had hoped to never see again. The Dark Mark looked particularly obscene hanging in the perfectly clear blue sky.

“Everybody, get away from the train!” shouted Minerva, tearing her eyes form the leering skull overhead. “Come on!”

The locomotive was now completely submerged, as were the remnants of the first-class carriages. There were some bits of flotsam to which escaped passengers were clinging. The air was filled with shouts and a few short-lived screams, as well as yowls from some very unhappy cats. They would be fine. They and a number of passengers were already swimming for shore.

She scanned the escapees and was gratified to see the Cattermole sisters assisting several young students who didn't know how to swim. Even Donaghan Tremlett had Transfigured his bass guitar case into a raft and was loading the injured aboard with the help of the Giant Squid, which had an unconscious passenger draped across the top of its head.

Minerva noticed one second-year student being weighed down by her robes and flew in. “Steady on, Chapman,” she said, pulling the coughing, spluttering girl up on her broom. She flew towards the boathouse and dropped Chapman on the dock. “Release the boats,” she said, and Chapman, bless the child, ran to obey and cast neat severing charms on the moorings.

“Twenty points to Ravenclaw,” said Minerva approvingly, as she lowered herself into the prow of the nearest boat. With a wave of her wand, all the boats began to move forward towards the wreckage, which continued to sink. There weren't nearly enough boats for the hundreds who had been on the train, but getting out to them was paramount.

She heard a spell go sizzling past her and was heartened to see Filius Flitwick running down from the castle as fast as his legs would carry him, shooting Duplication Spells at Minerva's flotilla. Other spells soon followed as the remaining teachers and staff poured from the castle to the edge of the lake. 

Minerva cast Levitation after Levitation on the smallest swimmers, flying them neatly into the boats, and others who were strong enough climbed in on their own. Satisfied that rescue efforts were proceeding apace, she loaded a tiny first year into her own boat, mounted her broom once more, and rose into the air to survey the damage.

The student carriages were almost fully submerged, and Minerva spotted the unmoving form of Lucius Malfoy being Levitated into a boat by Lydia Ollivander.

Minerva flew alongside the sinking carriages, looking for anyone who hadn't made it out yet, and the knot in her stomach loosened the least bit for every vacant compartment she passed. She did find one fourth-year Hufflepuff frantically digging through a trunk that Minerva sincerely hoped was his own, but all it took was a bellow from Minerva to get him to leap through the nearest window and swim for the boats.

Minerva was about to do one final pass of the train looking for anyone injured when she heard her name shouted by a harsh Mermish voice. She flew over to the patch of flotsam where the first-class carriages had sunk and espied three Mermen gesturing for her to approach, their expressions baleful.

Sweet Circe, in her haste to protect her charges, had she neglected the Merfolk?

Minerva greeted the chief in Mermish, but he waved his hand. “We will help to rescue your people,” he said in English. “But you will assist mine in meting out justice.”

“Thank you,” said Minerva. “Whoever has done this will answer for it.”

The Mermen nodded and dove back into the water. Already, Minerva could see greenish-grey hands helping to push passengers into the boats and holding the faces of the floundering above water. Seeing nobody else in immediate danger, she flew to shore, where Professor Longbottom had just arrived, red-faced and panting and carrying a ball of Gillyweed.

“Fancy a lift, Longbottom?” she said, offering him the broom.

“I would,” he said, stuffing the Gillyweed into his mouth. “Fanks, Mi'erva!”

“I pray you find nothing below apart from wreckage.”

He nodded solemnly, kicked off, and zoomed over to where the back of the final carriage was sticking out of the water. Finally pulled below by the weight of the rest of the train, it sank majestically below the surface, sending a flurry of bubbles up to the surface. Several coughing passengers rose up in its wake, and Minerva could see her Herbology teacher towing them towards the boats.

On shore, survivors were forming clumps, many of them crying, others being seen to by the Matron, who had set up a row of hospital beds along the shore.

“I've called for reinforcements from St. Mungo's,” she said to Minerva, healing Millicent Bulstrode's broken leg. She jerked her head at a nearby rolling cart, upon which were set several bottles of essence of dittany. “If you could help with the cuts and bruises, I'd be much obliged.”

“Of course,” said Minerva, taking the bottle.

“And have a dose of this yourself,” she said, tossing Minerva a bottle of Pepper-Up. “I suspect this will be a long night.”

“The bounty of Gaia be on you, Hannah Longbottom,” said Minerva, tossing back a not-so-wee dram.  
The rest of the day passed in a blur. In the end, all passengers but one were accounted for, the wounded were healed or shipped off to St. Mungo's for further treatment, parents were notified of the day's events via owl, the students were delivered to King's Cross via Knight Bus, and a compromise was reached between Hermione Granger and the Mermish Chief, who had got into a spectacular row over the Chief's insistence that the wreckage remain at the bottom of the lake and that the Ministry had no right to enter their waters. 

Fortunately, the Merfolk's long-standing accords with Hogwarts were such that Minerva was able to negotiate an unwieldy agreement, by which Magical Law Enforcement would be allowed to investigate the wreck in situ, provided the Aurors were accompanied by one Hogwarts teacher and monitored by one of the Merfolk. No-one was satisfied, which Minerva took to be a sign that the agreement was equitable.

And so the Headmistress found herself staring at the passenger manifest for so long that the names were running together. There was a knock at the door, and she was surprised to find Severus Snape standing in the doorway holding a steaming mug.

“Are you all right, Minerva?”

“Frankly, no,” she said.

He set the mug by her elbow—a hot toddy, double-strength, unless her nose deceived her.

“There's news,” he said.

“The final passenger?”

“Yes. They found her in the wreckage of a first-class carriage. She was beyond help.”

Minerva unhooked her spectacles from behind her ears and pressed her fingertips to her eyelids. “I feared as much.”

Severus took the passenger manifest and he ran his finger down the list until he found the name that lacked a check mark next to it. “Edlira Zagreda,” he said. “Did you know her?”

“I hardly said a word to her, apart from 'Welcome to Hogwarts, a house elf will bring you to your room,'” said Minerva. “She was observing the proceedings as part of a history project through Magical University of Tirana. I suppose I'll have to Owl the Albanian embassy.”

“Or you could let the Ministry do that and get some rest,” said Severus.

“They'll want to take my statement,” said Minerva. “Hermione said to send for her when--” 

“The Aurors still have dozens of statements to take, including mine,” said Severus. “They can question you in the morning.”

Minerva recognised the stubborn look on her old friend's face and sighed. “They can at that,” she said. She took a sip from the toddy and sighed at the familiar burn that warmed her throat. “You always did spoil me. I've had to learn to make my own rum punch since you left.”

“I'm sure it could knock a Quintaped sideways.”

“Arse over teakettle,” she agreed, giggling, then quickly sobered. “Who could have done this, Severus? And why?”

He gave an eloquent shrug, but she glared at him until he scowled. “I think it's obvious that a person or persons unknown want us to believe that the Dark Lord's former associates are responsible.”

“That would seem an obvious conclusion,” said Minerva. 

“But?”

“But there were hundreds of people on that train from all different backgrounds, yet only one person died. Tom's style was much more, well, directly lethal to whomever opposed him.”

“I think you're giving yourself too little credit, Minerva. Nick Bartleby is telling anyone who will listen that the train would have flown into the castle if you hadn't thought to quench the fire. And dozens more could have been crushed had you not facilitated a relatively orderly exit.”

Minerva waved her hand dismissively. “I don't know that putting out the flames had any effect.”

Severus gave her a look. “False modesty ill becomes you, Minerva. Bartleby's been driving the Express for four decades. I daresay he understands how it works rather well.”

Minerva frowned. Had her conclusion been too hasty? It was certainly possible that the train might not respond immediately, given the boiler water's residual heat. “It's not for either of us to say what might have happened,” she said. “It's up to Magical Law Enforcement to discover what happened and see that those responsible see justice.”

“I couldn't agree more,” said Severus. “Well, I'm for bed. You've seen the special edition of The Prophet?”

Minerva sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Do I want to?”

“Arnie Bulger managed to snap an impressive photo of you speeding off after the train. They printed it in colour. Naturally, they have even less information than we do.”

“I'll draft a statement,” said Minerva, yawning.

“You'll go to bed,” said Severus, crossing his arms. “I will dose you with Dreamless Sleep if necessary. Besides, you'll want to consult with the Aurors before saying anything to the press.”

“I suppose you're right,” said Minerva, taking a final sip from her now-lukewarm toddy. “And thank you. I may wish for happier circumstances, but it does my heart good to see you here.”

Severus's usual imperious posture softened momentarily, and she was strongly reminded of the boy he had once been, unsure of how to respond to praise. “I did not relish returning.”

“No-one blames you for that. Nor for not wanting to stay. I only wish—“

“Water under the bridge, Minerva,” he said roughly.

Minerva could feel tears stinging her eyes. “Forgive a foolish old woman,” she said, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve and blotting her eyes.

He reached out, hesitantly at first, and then took her hand in his warm fingers. “There is nothing to forgive.”

Minerva felt her face tremble, ready to crumple and succumb to exhaustion, but she pursed her lips and squeezed Severus's hand. 

“We'll speak tomorrow,” she promised.

He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it reverently. “Tomorrow. We'll have tea and a game of chess. Now, get to bed, you.”  
Severus closed the door to the Headmistress's office quietly behind him. Though it had been twenty years since he last walked the castle at night, he found himself treading its corridors silently, wand drawn but unlit, caught somewhere between force of habit and the feeling that he had no right to be there.

Though his own guest room was not far from the Great Hall, his feet carried him on his old patrol, past the hospital wing, the library, and the Astronomy Tower, now silent and empty of students, and finally, to his old quarters in the dungeon. He stared at the closed door, wondering what he would find inside if he were to dismantle the lock. But the moment passed, and he found that the question that had occurred to him no longer interested him in the least.

He pulled his robes close against the dungeon's chill—odd how it had never seemed to bother him before—and walked towards the Slytherin common room, where the door swung open to admit him without having to consider what the password might be. There was no fire in the grate and the hanging lamps were extinguished, but there was a dim glow coming from the windows that looked  
out into the lake. He approached the window, peered through the thick glass and saw greenish aureoles of light that he assumed had been cast to aid investigating the wreck of the Hogwarts Express. The wreck itself was discernible from the rocky bottom of the lake by virtue of its size, and every now and then, a light would flicker, as if from someone swimming around it.

Severus watched the eerie spectacle for a moment, crossing his arms across his chest against the chill. At last, he shook his head, and swept out of the common room and up the silent stone corridor towards the stairs.

The Great Hall was buzzing with Aurors, several of whom were conducting interviews with those few who had chosen to remain overnight at Hogwarts. There was an enormous glowing diagram of the Hogwarts Express, on which the names of the passengers and crew been inscribed in their initial locations. A number of names had lines with arrows on them them leading into other compartments or to the toilets or other compartments, presumably those who had already made their statements to the Aurors.

Hermione Granger was standing in the middle of a translucent bubble on whose walls were written notes in cypher, photographs, diagrams, lists and drawings. One Auror, Rhince, who had been in Slytherin many years ago, finished with her interview and approached the bubble. She caught Hermione's eye, and an opening appeared in the side of the bubble, allowing her to enter. Severus heard nothing of the conversation once the bubble had closed behind Rhince.

“Hello, sir,” said one of the junior Aurors. “Have you come to make your statement?”

“I'd like a word with Ms. Granger, if you don't mind.”

A pained look crossed the young man's face. “Are you sure you want to? She's quite focused on the case.”

“Ms. Granger's snit is of no consequence.”

The Auror gave a shudder. “It's your funeral.”

Severus stepped into Hermione's field of view, though she was so absorbed in updating the web of information on the wall of the bubble that she didn't notice him at first.

She met his gaze, and he could see anger simmering in her brown eyes. She finished her discussion with Rhince, and the bubble opened once more.

Hermione beckoned for him to enter, but he paused in the bubble's aperture.

“We should take a walk,” he said.

“I have work to do.”

“I'm afraid I must insist.”

“Oh must you?” she asked sarcastically. She did, however, follow him out of the bubble and seal it behind her.

They ducked into an alcove off the staircase to the Astronomy Tower, and he cast a silent Muffliato over them. “Minerva believes that the train wreck wasn't lethal enough to be Death Eater handiwork.”

“Death Eaters without Voldemort aren't exactly known for their bravery,” said Hermione. “One need look no further than the Muggle-baiting they did at the Bulgaria-Ireland Quidditch World Cup.”

“True, but if she has suspicions, others will as well.”

Hermione thought for a moment. “There is still a great deal of wreckage to be searched. Who knows what evidence we'll find?”

“You've got a glib answer for everything,” he said grudgingly.

“I've had years of practise,” said Hermione with a tight smile. “Is there anything else I should know before speaking with Minerva tomorrow?”

“She wanted to write to the Albanians concerning the untimely passing of one of their citizens, though I convinced her to let the Ministry handle that.”

“Good,” said Hermione. “You know I respect the Headmistress, but she does have a tendency to take on more than she ought. I'm hopeful she can be convinced to leave most of the investigating to my Aurors.”

“The tendency to overcommit does seem to be something of a Gryffindor trait,” said Severus, smirking.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” asked Hermione, scowling. “Because some of us have work to do.”

Severus could see clear signs of stress and exhaustion in her face. “Under ideal circumstances, you will have a trying day ahead,” he said. “If I were you, I would consider getting some sleep.”

“I'll think about it,” said Hermione, spinning on her heel and walking through the Anti-Eavesdropping Charm, which disintegrated with a whisper of magic.

Severus watched her walk back to the Great Hall, passing through the warm circles of torchlight on her way back to the Great Hall. “I rather thought you might,” he said softly.  
The next morning, Hermione knocked on the door to the Headmistress's office and found her sitting opposite the school Matron. Minerva's face lit up when she saw Hermione.

“Just the witch we wanted to see,” said Minerva, Summoning a chair for Hermione. “Hannah has made an extraordinary discovery.”

“Congratulations?” said Hermione, bewildered, sitting next to Hannah, who was blushing in a most becoming way.

“It's all because Neville and I have been binge-watching _CSI: Cincinnati_ that I even recognised the signs,” said Hannah.

“Of what?”

“Muggle cosmetic surgery!” 

Hermione's confusion must have shown on her face, because Hannah blushed. “Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. The Merfolk made the Ministry agree to involve someone from Hogwarts in each step of the investigation.”

“I'm aware,” said Hermione drily.

“Since I'm the only member of the staff who's trained as a Healer, I was asked to observe the post-mortem examination of Edlira Zagreda, the woman who died. Or that's who she claimed to be, anyway. She had extensive surgeries to alter the shape of her face.”

“Perhaps she was disfigured in an accident?” asked Hermione.

Hannah shook her head. “There's no sign of that: no notable scars, and no signs of broken or healed bones, even though her bones are quite brittle for a woman of her age, and at some point she lost a considerable amount of weight.”

“Interesting,” said Hermione.

“I'm not even to the interesting part,” said Hannah. “So finding out she'd completely changed her face in such a way that magic couldn't restore it, I wondered if her identity could have anything to do with why she ended up dead.”

Hermione coughed back a sharp comment. “That's something of a leap, isn't it? Crashing a train is a pretty imprecise method of killing someone.”

“Yes, but she didn't die in the crash,” said Hannah. “She was dead before the train hit the water.”

Hermione was pleased to see that Minerva looked as shocked as she herself felt. “How?”

“She was killed by a blow to the back of the head,” said Hannah. “It's in the post-mortem report. Or will be once the Mediwizard finishes with it.”

“The injury is consistent with where she was found,” said Hermione. “She was in the corridor practically buried in trunks. They must've flown everywhere when the other passengers threw them out of their compartments.”

“That's not all, though,” said Hannah, who was practically vibrating with excitement, which Hermione considered to be in rather bad taste, given the circumstances. “At some point between being struck in the head and the train sinking, someone forced clean water into her lungs, probably from casting _Aguamenti _up her nose. The disparity in microorganisms is unmistakeable. I never would have thought to look, but it was major plot point in the _CSI: Cincinnati___ episode where Colton and Nevaeh discover that victim who was found in the Licking River actually drowned in Folz Fishing Lake. The Healer had no idea what I was talking about, of course, but they don't know anything about Muggle science.”

Hermione was silent for a moment as rapid thoughts flickered through her mind and slotted together into workable hypotheses. “Someone would have heard or seen if it was done out in the corridor where her body was found,” she said. “That suggests that she was struck and waterlogged in one of the compartments and then moved into the corridor after the luggage was dumped there, making it appear as though she was knocked out by luggage in the crash, and drowned.”

Minerva's face was stormy. “So it's murder, then.”

“Or accidental death,” said Hermione, wondering if Minerva, too had been watching too many television mysteries. “The blow to the head that killed her might not have been intended to kill her.”

“The water up her nose certainly was,” said Hannah.

“Or it was intended to make the death look less suspicious,” said Hermione, with a touch of asperity.

“Well, I think it was murder,” said Hannah, crossing her arms.

“Your job was to determine the cause of death, and you've done that, for which I'm grateful. But watching a lot of crime procedurals doesn't make you an expert in criminal justice,” said Hermione, her voice hard. “Now, I'll assign someone to look into this woman's credentials. Perhaps they'll offer additional clues as to who she was and why she was here.”

“And why someone might wish to kill her,” added Minerva, who shot a sympathetic look at Hannah.

Hermione paused a fraction of a second. “And why someone might wish her harm,” she said.

Hannah seemed to take this as a concession, and she smiled with the blitheness that Hermione fondly remembered from their Dumbledore's Army days. “I thought we might try something a bit more direct,” she said. “It's a bit unusual, but I want to see if one of my diagnostic spells can simulate her original facial structure. It won't be exact, but might provide something to go on.”

“Intriguing,” said Minerva, and Hermione found herself nodding in agreement.

“If we're going to, we should do it now,” said Hannah, rising. “They'll be moving the body to the morgue at St. Mungo's soon.”

Minerva glanced at Hermione, who made a deferential gesture towards the Matron. “What I have can wait,” she said.

Hannah beamed at them both and led the way to the Hospital Wing, where the Auror that Hermione had assigned to monitor the proceedings, Burbrickle, was looking exceptionally bored. He stood to attention at Hermione's entrance, and she dismissed him with a nod.

The Healer from St. Mungo's had his back to the bed where the body lay beneath a crisp white sheet, and he was examining two samples whose magnified images hung glowing in the air. He glared at the three of them in exasperation. “I'm trying to finish my report.”

“Can you do in the next room?” asked Hannah, gesturing to the other side of the room. “I want to perform _Compositus_ on the victim.”

“Haven't you wasted enough time for one day?” he grumbled, as he Vanished the images and gathered together the sample phials.

“Apparently not,” said Hannah, smiling.

Once the space around the body had been cleared, Hannah gently pulled back the sheet to reveal the face of a witch, somewhere north of seventy with short black hair and a narrow, pointed face.

Hermione cocked her head to the side, but there was nothing at all familiar about the face.

“The hair is dyed, certainly,” said Minerva. “Do you know its original colour?”

“From the age of the victim and given the hair's texture, I'd say grey,” said Hannah. She waved her wand, murmured a spell, and the body's face appeared in the air above the body, with open, blinking brown eyes, grey hair, and lightly flushed skin.

“That's unnerving,” muttered Minerva. Hermione, who had seen similar spells performed, was inclined to agree.

“Now,” said Hannah, waving her wand to Vanish the face and reveal the skull, “as you can see, bone has been shaved away from her chin and forehead, and artificial bone has been grafted on to make her cheekbones more pronounced.“ She returned the lifelike face on top of the skull. “And if that weren't enough, you can see from these small scars here, here, and here, she's had a face lift, moved her ears back, and had upper and lower eyelid surgeries to change the shape of her eyes.”

“That sounds like bog standard plastic surgery,” said Hermione. 

“But for a witch to undergo Muggle surgeries?” asked Hannah. “Doesn't that strike you as suspicious?”

“It's certainly eccentric, but there are legitimate reasons that a witch might go to a Muggle doctor instead of a Magical healer.”

Hannah snorted. “Do you really think it's more likely that she had a rare magic intolerance than it is that she wanted to change her appearance in a way that can't be easily reversed with magic?”

Hermione was about to retort angrily when Minerva cleared her throat.

“Let's not speculate motives,” she said. “For now, I suggest we stick to the task at hand.”

Chastened, Hannah raised her wand. “Sorry. It's easy enough to remove the effect of the zygomatic grafts, since they're made of a different material than the rest of the skull.” The floating face flattened slightly, its prominent cheekbones sinking back into the rest of the face. “It's a bit harder to judge how much of the eyelids were excised and how much of the frontal plate and mandible were shaved down, but I can increase them bit-by-bit.”

Slowly, the face before them flattened and widened, and its eyes seemed to narrow into an expression of disgust while still protruding from the face.

“No wonder she had work done if that's what she looked like before,” muttered Hermione.

“Hannah dear,” said Minerva, whose voice sounded a bit odd, as though she were beginning to recognise the person in front of them, “could you make the face a bit fatter, perhaps? You said she'd lost a great deal of weight.”

“Of course,” said Hannah, and the face began to fill out into familiar looking contours. “You know, she looks a bit like—" she cut off with a gasp.

They were staring at the unmistakable, toad-like face of Dolores Umbridge.  
The Minister for Magic was summarily sent for, along with every bit of information the Ministry had on Dolores Jane Umbridge, her meteoric rise through the Ministry and her subsequent fall from grace. Hermione, who was quite familiar with Umbridge's history as head of Magical Law Enforcement, found herself in a four-way conference with Minerva, Minister Finch-Fletchley, and Pikeslayer, which was the English name by which the Mermish Chief preferred to be called, who was attending via Flow Call.

Hermione's brain was whirring, trying to balance the astounding unmasking of Umbridge with thinking methodically about the investigation, the number of interviews that would need to be repeated, and the fact that practically everybody who had been present at the anniversary celebration had reason to hate Umbridge. Her head was beginning to ache from the enormity of the task ahead of them.

She was more than content to let Minerva describe Hannah's discoveries, namely the true identity of the deceased, which made the Minister gasp in shock, as well as the fact that she was already dead before being submerged. Chief Pikeslayer seemed deeply disturbed by the fact that someone had attempted to cover up the crime by forcing water into her lungs.

“Well,” said Justin, “that changes some things.”

“It does,” agreed the Chief, his voice distorted through Translation Charm and Flow Call, which made his rippling underwater image appear in Minerva's fire. “We have no need to be involved in investigating this woman's death. She was no friend to Merfolk and will be unmourned.”

Hermione sighed. “Thank you, Chief Pikeslayer. That will simplify matters.”

“You must still work with us to investigate the sabotage of your train,” he warned. “Several of my people were injured and homes were destroyed.”

“Well, isn't that all beside the point?” asked Justin.” It seems obvious to me that Umbridge was the one who sabotaged the train and sent the Dark Mark into the sky, but someone caught her at it, whacked her over the head, and then tried to cover his tracks. I think we owe her killer a debt of gratitude.”

Minerva's face twisted in disapproval, and Hermione cleared her throat. “That may very well be the case, Minister, but even an awful person like Umbridge is presumed innocent until proven otherwise. I wouldn't be doing my job if we didn't do a thorough investigation. And even though her actions during the war were despicable, it was never proven that she was a Death Eater, so if she cast the Dark Mark, it may have been to implicate someone else.”

“Very well,” grumbled the Minister, glancing from Minerva to Hermione in turn. “But if you want to be completely fair, I'm not sure either of you should be leading the investigation.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Hermione coldly.

“My actions toward Dolores Umbridge are above reproach,” said Minerva, puffing up a bit. 

“You sent her off to the Centaurs, Hermione.”

“I was a teenager fighting an authoritarian figure who literally tortured my friends!”

“And you insulted her to her face and openly opposed her,” said the Minister, smiling at Minerva. “You might think we student's didn't notice it, but we did. Appreciated it too, but if we're trying to avoid perceived conflicts of interest—”

“Pish and tish!” exclaimed Minerva. “That was in service to the school, which I vowed to protect when I accepted the post of Deputy Headmistress,” said Minerva. “And while you're certainly too young to know this, I did the same thing to Armando Dippet when he was being a fool. His portrait still doesn't speak to me.”

“Where, precisely, do you hope to find someone competent to investigate who wasn't persecuted by Dolores Umbridge or who wasn't close to someone who was?” asked Hermione, jaw firmly set.

Justin went pale under their combined baleful gazes and began to stammer, when he was interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared from the doorway.

“Is this a bad time?”

They all turned to find Severus Snape standing in the doorway with a wizarding chessboard under his arm.

“Him!” exclaimed Justin. “You should investigate with him!”

Severus gave him a withering look. “What nonsense are you talking, Finch-Fletchley?”

“I think the idea has merit,” said Minerva, looking thoughtful.

“Am I to be the only one investigating this murder who has any idea how to do it?” exclaimed Hermione.

“I worked for Magical Law Enforcement for years before I started teaching, I'll have you know,” said Minerva, drawing herself up to her full height. “I was investigating murders before your parents were born.”

“Someone murdered the historian?” asked Severus, frowning. 

“Yes, our ingenious school Matron discovered that the water in the victim's lungs was not lake water, so it's clear that someone interfered,” said Hermione, her voice hard.

“Anyway, It turns out the historian was actually Dolores Umbridge in disguise,” said the Minister helpfully. “Remarkable, that. And you're the only one we can think of who can provide useful insight without having skin in the game, as it were.”

“Umbridge? How very unexpected,” said Severus in a bored tone. “However, if you're looking for someone unaffected by her winning personality, I'm afraid I do not fit that description. Unless you've forgot that I was teaching at Hogwarts during her brief, undistinguished tenure here.”

“Yes, but she didn't have it in for you the way she did all the other teachers, probably because you were Head of Slytherin. Sure, you thought she was useless, but you thought the same about loads of us students, and you managed not to kill any of us.”

Hermione's head was beginning to ache despite the potion she had taken earlier. 

“All right,” she said, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “Severus, do you wish to be involved in the investigation, or don't you?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world,” he said, smirking. 

“Very well. I suggest you and Minerva accompany me to the Great Hall. I'll show you what we've found so far, and we can decide where to go from there. Is everybody satisfied with that?”

Everybody was satisfied, Hermione excepted. This wasn't surprising to her in the least.  
Severus, Hermione, and Minerva found the Aurors in the Great Hall gathered around one of the tables, speaking excitedly in low voices.

“What's all this?” asked Hermione in a forbidding tone. Severus suspected that she practised it in the bath.

“Look what Shaw found in the corridor near the victim!” exclaimed Burbrickle, holding aloft a stumpy-looking wand. “ _Prior Incanto _showed that it was used to cast the Dark Mark! And these were found in her compartment.”__

__The clump of Aurors parted to allow Hermione to examine the other objects on the table, which appeared to be a toy dragon and a beater's bat._ _

__Hermione waved her wand over them. The toy dragon glowed a bright white-blue._ _

__“Portkey,” she said._ _

__“Unregistered,” said Rhince grimly._ _

__“Where was it meant to go?”_ _

__“We can't tell precisely, since the spell began to degrade immediately after the departure window closed,” said one of the trainees, who was taking notes. “But Rhince reckons somewhere in southeastern Europe.”_ _

__“Like Albania,” said Minerva, nodding._ _

__“Or Macedonia. Or Bulgaria. Or Greece,” said Hermione. “Is the body still in the infirmary?”_ _

__“No, they took it to St. Mungo's an hour ago,” said Burbrickle._ _

__“Take the bat and see if the Healer in charge can confirm if it was the murder weapon.”_ _

__“Right,” said Burbrickle, sounding none too pleased to be assigned to corpse duty once more. He Levitated the bat skulked out of the hall._ _

__“Has anyone been through the victim's luggage yet?” asked Minerva._ _

__The Aurors looked guiltily at one another. “We haven't actually managed to find it yet. Well, we may have found it, but we don't know for certain that it's hers yet. Most of it isn't tagged.”_ _

__“I'll speak with the house elves,” said Minerva. “They handled every trunk and valise for the guests. If they can recall any details about Edlira Zagreda's, perhaps we can locate it without going through every piece of luggage on the train.”_ _

__“Thank you, that'll help,” said Hermione. “We did find a handbag in her compartment.” She Summoned a clear plastic case from her private bubble. “These are the contents.”_ _

__The case contained a Mokeskin money bag, cosmetics and a hand mirror, a comb, a small notebook, and a lacy handkerchief with an elaborate M embroidered on it._ _

__“What a lovely handkerchief,” remarked Minerva. “I wonder whose it is?”_ _

__“Narcissa Malfoy was in the next compartment,” said Hermione, leading them over to the enormous diagram of the train. “Between the style and the monogram, I wouldn't be surprised if it's hers.”_ _

__“Even if it is, I doubt we'll get the entire truth from her simply by asking,” said Severus. “Especially once she discovers in whose possession it was found. I suspect Lucius will support his wife's claims, as well.”_ _

__“Perhaps, but at least we can stack all of Carriage A's lies up against one another for comparison's sake,” said Hermione, leading them over to the enormous diagram of the train._ _

__“Why only Carriage A?” asked Minerva. “Anyone on the train could have been involved. The passengers circulate freely.”_ _

__“That's true of the student carriages,” said Hermione, “but all of the conductors confirmed that the three first-class carriages were locked to ensure the passengers' privacy, and only they had passkeys. Richie Cresswell was assisting passengers in Carriage A when the train took flight. Alex Throckmorton was at the far end of the train helping some stragglers with their luggage, and Jill Trimble was in carriage E, the second student carriage investigating the rumour that someone had smuggled a juvenile Hippogriff aboard.”_ _

__“Poor Throckmorton,” murmured Minerva. “He was rather knocked about.”_ _

__“The Healers at St. Mungo's say he'll make a full recovery,” said Hermione, her voice too bright and confident._ _

__“How reassuring,” said Severus in as bland a voice as he could muster._ _

__Hermione gave him a dirty look. “I find it interesting that you didn't see fit to mention to the Minister that you were in the same Carriage as Umbridge.”_ _

__“I wasn't aware that I was a suspect, given my lack of motive.”_ _

__“You are one of only a dozen people with means and opportunity,” said Hermione._ _

__“Then by all means, let me set your mind at ease,” said Severus, gesturing towards Hermione's privacy bubble._ _

__Once all three were seated at the small table inside the bubble, Hermione tapped an automatic quill. “Statement of Severus Snape regarding the wreck of the Hogwarts Express. Please state your name.”_ _

__“Severus Snape.”_ _

__“Occupation?”_ _

__“Private research.”_ _

__“Employer?”_ _

__“Myself.”_ _

__“Place of residence?”_ _

__“Cornwall.”_ _

__“Please describe your actions on the morning of Tuesday, June 19th.”_ _

__“I rose at seven. Dined in the Great Hall at eight. Gathered my belongings and took a Thestral-drawn carriage to Hogsmeade Station for the ten-fifteen departure of the Hogwarts Express. I boarded the train approximately five minutes before the train departed.”_ _

__“Did you speak with anyone in particular?”_ _

__“Yes, your lovely self, as you may recall,” he said, smirking at Hermione._ _

__“Do you recall the subject of your conversation?” she asked icily._ _

__“Career advice,” he answered smoothly._ _

__Minerva let out a small cough._ _

__“Did you notice anyone in particular when you boarded the train? No detail is too small.”_ _

__“I mounted the carriage steps and walked to my compartment, ten, which was the third from the end. The door to the toilet was closed, the first compartment door was open, but I don't recall seeing anyone inside, though I didn't really look. The next compartment was occupied by Lucius and Narcissa, who greeted me as I passed. I noticed the conductor coming down the passageway, and not wishing to be disturbed later, I showed him my ticket, then entered my compartment. I closed the door behind me. I didn't open the door again until I realised we were taking flight.”_ _

__“What did you do then?”_ _

__“I entered the corridor and saw that a number of passengers were there to see what was going on. I knew that it would take a great deal of magic to levitate the train, so I cast _Specialis Revelio_ to see if I could discover how it was being done and possibly reverse the procedure.”_ _

__Minerva was sitting forward in her chair. “What did you discover?”_ _

__“That there are a great deal more protection and privacy spells on the Hogwarts Express than I ever knew,” said Severus. “The charm also revealed the presence of a powerfully charmed hoop-shaped object on the exterior underside underside of the carriage.”_ _

__“Where precisely was it?” asked Hermione._ _

__“Under the floor of the second compartment, which I believe was vacant,” said Severus. “It appeared be connected to a line of magical energy running forward to the locomotive and backwards to the next carriage. I cast several spells at it, none of which were effective in disabling it.”_ _

__Minerva turned to Hermione with a frown. “Did you know about this?”_ _

__“How the train was levitated? Of course,” said Hermione. “I was planning to brief you on it this morning, but you may recall that other things took precedence. The hoop-shaped objects have been identified as flying carriage springs. We believe they once belonged to the school.”_ _

__“Merlin,” said Minerva softly. “Hogwarts hasn't used flying carriages in a hundred years. Headmaster Everard had a herd of Aethonian winged horses that used to fly all the students between the school and Hogsmeade Station. It was grand to see the school from above, and dashed useful to the first years for seeing how the school was laid out. Unfortunately, all that came to an end when Nigel Inglesworth thought it would be a lark to dangle out the window of one and he nearly died in the fall. The carriages were retired shortly thereafter and have been rusting in one of the outbuildings ever since. Anyone could have found them.”_ _

__Hermione nodded grimly and turned Severus. “What happened next?”_ _

__“Then you gave us all our marching orders,” said Severus. “I came in from the corridor, closed the door behind me, and blasted the glass out of my window. I flew out of it and landed on the shore of the lake closest to the school, where I assisted the Matron by conjuring beds for the wounded.”_ _

__“I don't recall seeing you fly off,” said Minerva._ _

__“I must have flown out when you were inspecting the other side of the train,” said Severus. “And I left the Matron to assist Filius floating the boats to shore,” said Severus. “Both of them will be able to corroborate my story.”_ _

__“Why did you decide to stay here instead of Flooing back to Cornwall?” asked Hermione._ _

__“The Aurors told me to stay until I could be interviewed,” said Severus. “Furthermore, I work for myself, so I needn't worry about being sacked if I fail to report tomorrow.”_ _

__“And now you've been pressed into service,” said Minerva. “That'll teach you to make yourself available.”_ _

__“It's true, I have none but myself to blame,” said Severus. “Now, are you satisfied?”_ _

__“For now,” said Hermione. “Now, I need to—“_ _

__“One moment, dear,” said Minerva. “Severus, what made you decide to take the Express in the first place? In a first-class compartment, no less. I don't seem to recall it being something you did when you taught here.”_ _

__If the question surprised Severus, he didn't show it. “You know I am a man of few friends who values privacy,” he said. “That's why I wished to have my own compartment next to Lucius and Narcissa. As to why ride the train at all, I used to be something of a railway enthusiast in my youth. The trains that came through Cokeworth were a welcome sign of regularity and predictability. I confess, as a younger man, I didn't care to be reminded of my childhood for a variety of reasons, but those iron divisions separating the different parts of my life need no longer be as impervious as they once were.”_ _

__Minerva smiled. “Sentiment,” she said in a voice of approval._ _

__“If you like,” said Severus._ _

__Hermione cleared her throat. “Now, if there are no further questions for Severus?”_ _

__“Not at present,” said Minerva._ _

__“Good,” said Hermione. “I need to brief my Aurors on the victim's identity and cause of death, ask them to recall the other passengers in Carriage A for additional questioning, and draft a statement for the _Prophet_. You're welcome to observe or take part, but it's not going to be particularly interesting.”_ _

__“The house elves should have further information about Umbridge's luggage within the hour,” said Minerva. “Once we have a description, I would be much obliged if you could prioritise locating it.”_ _

__“I had planned to,” said Hermione, smiling tightly at the Headmistress. “Perhaps you might also consult with the portraits and castle ghosts to see if any of them observed Umbridge's alter ego doing anything unusual.”_ _

__Minerva's smile was unusually full of teeth. “I was planning to do that as well.”_ _

__“If you like,” cut in Severus, “I can take Minerva's statement while you're otherwise occupied. I have seen how it's done, and Minerva's not a suspect, I presume.”_ _

__Hermione opened her mouth to object and closed it again. “I suppose that would be acceptable,” she said._ _

__“Your confidence in my abilities is touching,” said Severus blandly._ _

__“Oh, shut up,” said Hermione tiredly, sealing the bubble behind her._ _


	2. Chapter 2

Minerva hated to admit it, but she was enjoying herself. She glanced over Hermione's shoulder at her castle, its towers shining in the early afternoon sun, and felt deeply proud of it and her staff, all of whom were revealing useful bits of information about Umbridge's final days in places that Hermione Granger and her Aurors hadn't thought to look.

She was pleased with being able to keep the passengers' stories at least a straight as Hermione Granger did, which she credited to many years of keeping Hogwarts running—not the sort of activity that led to mental atrophy. And she was deeply appreciative of her renewed friendship with Severus, which felt almost as if no time hand passed since their days of bickering in the faculty lounge by day and playing feverishly competitive games of chess into the night, occasionally to the detriment of their grading.

However, that satisfaction did nothing to silence the tiny bell in the back of her mind that had been ringing ever since discovering their victim's identity. The bell began to ring more insistently when Minerva realised that every occupant of Carriage A, save Richie Cresswell the conductor, had been in Slytherin, which seemed like an enormous coincidence.

However, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, who had responded to the request for additional questioning promptly and politely, pointed out that Slytherins had always been treated with suspicion, which is why they often self-segregated and gave themselves space to retreat. 

On the surface, it appeared to be true. In the first round of interviews, Lucius and Narcissa claimed that they'd requested a compartment near their dear friend Severus, as well as Delphine Zabini, who was once again single and detested travelling among strangers. Delphine herself requested a compartment near Millicent Bulstrode and Adrian Pucey, who were such good friends to her son Blaise. Meanwhile, Adrian wished to be near his old Quidditch team-mates, Graham Montague and Cassius Warrington. And Graham's second cousin once removed, Charles Greengrass. had a desire to spend some quality time with his cousin Graham and to curry favour with Horace Slughorn in order to secure an internship for his grandson. Horace, meanwhile, wished to make the acquaintance of Millicent Bulstrode, who had written a rather extraordinary romance novel about a romance between a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff that many suspected of being a _roman a clef_ about herself and the Minister of Magic, as well as Lydia, the reclusive Ollivander matriarch. Lydia, for her part, wished to be in the first carriage because she found the sound of the locomotive to be soothing.

It was all reasonable, the relationships and seating requests had all been corroborated by one or more other passengers, but it was entirely too tidy for Minerva's taste. And it didn't explain how Umbridge, also a Slytherin, but incognito, had ended up in a carriage filled with members of her old house, given that she had made no particular seating requests that anybody could recall. It didn't add up.

Minerva was hopeful the last question would be answered soon, when she, Hermione, and Severus had an appointment with Chief Pikeslayer to search the wreckage for a medium-sized suitcase of dark brown whose lid was secured with a pink strap, which is how the house elves had described Edlira Zagreda's one and only suitcase. As least, she hoped it would be soon, since all of them were waiting for Neville Longbottom to show up at the lake with the Gillyweed he was supposed to bring.

Hermione checked her wristwatch and frowned out at the lake for the fourth time in the last minute, and Minerva had to bite back a sharp word. Fortunately, Hermione's fidgeting appeared to be annoying Severus as much as it annoyed her.

“Longbottom will arrive when he arrives, Granger,” said Severus impatiently.

“I'll give him another minute,” said Hermione. “Then I think we should go in with Bubble-Head Charms.”

“I'd rather wait for Longbottom,” said Minerva. “Bubble-Head interferes with visibility and hearing. Besides, the water is still quite cold.”

“Yes, I know. You may recall that I took an unexpected dip in it yesterday.” Hermione sighed impatiently and made an obvious effort not to look at her watch again. “I'm surprised you're not concerned about keeping Chief Pikeslayer waiting.”

“The Chief has agreed to our terms. A few minutes' wait won't invalidate our accord.”

“Pardon me for wanting to treat the Merfolk with respect,” said Hermione. “Unless you want the Chief to be even more sceptical of the Ministry than ever.”

“You needn't worry on that account,” said Minerva. “The Merfolk could not possibly be more sceptical than they already are.”

Severus coughed to hide his snort, and Hermione huffed and looked defiantly at her watch.

“And here he comes,” said Severus, looking over Minerva's shoulder.

Minerva turned to see Longbottom pottering towards them on an ancient Cleensweep broomstick.

“I'm so sorry!” he exclaimed, panting. “I just came from Hogsmeade. Someone's raided my Gillyweed aquarium. The Three Broomsticks just happened to be making Gillywater today, so they let me buy enough for the three of you, but I'm afraid all future exploration will have to be with Bubble-Head Charms, unless one of you knows where we might find enough for all the Aurors.”

“Interesting,” said Severus, accepting the modest handful of Gillyweed.

Minerva tried not to take her flaring annoyance out on Neville. “Well, thank you for doing what you could under trying circumstances,” she said brusquely.

“Where is your Gillyweed aquarium?” asked Hermione.

“My office in greenhouse four,” said Neville. “The door was locked, but it's easy enough to unlatch the window from the outside.”

“Let one of my Aurors in the Great Hall know,” said Hermione. “I doubt we'll find anything useful, but it can't hurt to look, especially since it means that someone could have had access to the wreck without anybody knowing about it.”

“I will,” said Neville, looking a bit sheepish as he started to walk towards the school. “Stolen Gillyweed. Who'd have thought?” 

“All right,” said Hermione, once he was out of earshot. “None of the Aurors has yet catalogued any luggage matching the house elves' description, so we'll have to search all of the compartments, even the student ones, and we only have an hour. After that, we have eight more interviews to do, we should have additional results from the carriage springs used to crash the train, and I've got to draft a statement tonight for tomorrow's press briefing. I'd really like to present our solution.”

“I wasn't aware we'd arrived at one,” said Severus.

“I've yet to see anything that disproves Justin's theory that Umbridge crashed the train and she was killed when someone in Carriage A tried to stop her,” said Hermione. “I know Hannah's convinced it was murder, but she's not a trained investigator, and I think it's just as likely that Umbridge's death was accidental, even if someone tried to cover it up by making it look like she'd drowned.”

Minerva didn't like something in Hermione's tone. “You sound as though you expect Severus to confess,” she said, forcing a laugh. “Now let's stop dithering and get into the water.”

Severus shrugged and popped the Gillyweed into his mouth. Hermione and Minerva followed him, kicking off their shoes and socks and walking into the water as they chewed.

Minerva had never actually eaten Gillyweed before, and suddenly being unable to breathe air was disconcerting. Fortunately, the frigid water now felt delightfully cool, and she inhaled fully through her gills once she was fully submerged.

Chief Pikeslayer was waiting for them just offshore and made an impatient gesture for them to follow.

Minerva had spent summers practically living in the loch behind her childhood home and was pleased to find that her new webbed hands and feet allowed her to cut through the water even more efficiently than she had as a child, despite not having swum in years. She glanced over her shoulder to see Hermione kicking and pulling competently. Severus, on the other hand, was clearly struggling to keep up, to the point that Pikeslayer ordered a Merman to tow him, which Severus grudgingly allowed, scowling all the while.

The afternoon sun filtered through the clear water, and the grass at the bottom of the lake rippled as gently as a field of wheat in a warm spring breeze. Even the Grindylows seemed to be enjoying the day too much to make anything more than a half-hearted effort to grab at their ankles. All too soon they came upon the twisted wreck of the train, whose neatly-painted carriages lay askew on a rock-strewn mud flat on the bottom of the lake. Minerva noticed with a wince that there were a number of ruined Merfolk buildings where the remains of the first-class carriages had settled. It was a miracle that no-one had been killed apart from Umbridge.

As they approached the wreck, Minerva could see piles of belongings that had been inspected and sorted already: suitcases, trunks, books, empty owl cages, several broomsticks, and even an accordion that belonged to a Ravenclaw sixth-year who was doing an independent study in magical composition. She hoped that the student had managed to cast a waterproofing charm on it, since she doubted being submerged would do the instrument any favours. However, she didn't see any pieces of luggage matching the elves' description of Umbridge's suitcase.

Hermione lit her wand with a flick of her wrist, and she gestured for everyone to follow her to the very end of the train, whose final carriage, which was lying on its side near a pile of sorted luggage. The corridor had been cleared and the compartment doors opened, presumably by the Aurors. However, they had not yet cleared all the luggage that remained in the compartments, and it had been flung every which way when the Express had crashed. Minerva winced in sympathy, imagining the drubbing that poor Throckmorton had taken in the last compartment. 

Hermione methodically searched the closest student compartment while Minerva and Severus watched from the door and Chief Pikeslayer observed impassively through the window. When she was satisfied that Umbridge's case wasn't there, Minerva and Severus backed out of the doorway to allow her to move to the next compartment, and in doing so, Minerva's webbed foot bumped against the edge of the pocket door frame. To her surprise, the wooden surface flexed. 

Minerva swam into the compartment and quickly discovered that someone had cast a very powerful Cushioning Charm on all of the hard surfaces. She felt a small glow of admiration for the unknown student's quick thinking, which was quickly doused by the realisation that she ought to have instructed all the passengers to cast Cushioning Charms to prevent injuries instead of simply ordering them to move their luggage into the corridor. Poor Throckmorton might have come out of it all with only a few bumps and bruises.

Minerva's self-castigation was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder from Severus, whose brows were drawn together in concern. She straightened her shoulders and put his hand on the Cushioning Charm, which he probed with his fingers and nodded. He led her to the next compartment, where a less accomplished but still functional Cushioning Charm had also been applied.

They proceeded up the interior of the train, and Minerva noticed that there was a blue glowing shape on the floor near the centre of each coach, which she assumed had been cast by the Aurors to show where the flying carriage spring had been attached to the underside in order to levitate the train. Minerva also realised with dawning amazement that every single student compartment had some sort of Cushioning Charm on the interior. Presumably some bright person had thought of it and shouted it aloud, and the idea had spread like Fiendfyre down the train. She wondered if Hermione, who had been in the first student carriage, D, could tell her anything about where the idea had come from.

Unsurprisingly, the student compartments did not reveal the missing suitcase, and neither did the first-class carriages C and B, whose roomy compartments were far simpler to search, since all three of them could fit inside without bumping limbs. All of the first-class carriage compartment doors had been unlocked by the Aurors, but the carriages had been twisted, so none of the doors could be opened all the way. The door between carriages B and A was too ruined to squeeze through, which necessitated the three of them swimming out the window of the foremost compartment in Carriage B and into compartment 12 of Carriage A, where Umbridge had presumably met her fate.

Minerva paused before entering Umbridge's compartment to swim the length of the carriage to assess the damage. Though the heavy steel locomotive had borne the brunt of the impact, Carriage A was a wreck, having been twisted lengthwise and its walls and roof bent, which forced it to burst outward in several places. The foremost compartments were in splinters after being crushed up against the locomotive by the force of the rest of the train, destroying everything inside. Minerva was greatly relieved that the second compartment had been vacant, and Lydia Ollivander had left her number one compartment to join Horace Slughorn in his number three compartment after the train had flown up into the air, otherwise she might have been killed.

She shook off the unpleasant thought and joined Hermione and Severus in Umbridge's compartment. Unfortunately, it revealed nothing—no signs of struggle, no spell marks, not even smudges on the carpet. It was pristine, precisely the way a first-class compartment ought to look, and the Aurors had long since removed any objects that remained in it.

Swallowing her disappointment, Minerva followed Hermione and Severus into the corridor, but it had also been cleared of physical objects, and there wasn't so much as a hex mark on the cracked walls and fissured ceiling.

As they continued their compartment-by-compartment search, Minerva discovered, her surprise, that not every denizen of the first carriage had thought to cast Cushioning Charms, which made Minerva smirk inwardly. For all of the Slytherins' vaunted cunning, only the compartments occupied by Delphine Zabini, Horace Slughorn, Cassius Warrington, and Millicent Bulstrode had been Cushioned. That certainly explained how Lucius Malfoy had come by his extensive injuries. At least Severus hadn't needed a Cushioning Charm, seeing as he could fly.

Minerva was sorry that Richie Cresswell had been too busy attempting to save his passengers that he hadn't noticed anything before he himself had been conked on the head and had to be Levitated to safety by Lydia Ollivander. 

She was distracted from her musing by Hermione suddenly swimming out the window of a nearby carriage, and Chief Pikeslayer moved to let her pass. She swam towards a pile of luggage, which she burrowed into and triumphantly pulled out a brown suitcase with a pink luggage strap around it. At last! Umbridge's case!

However, Minerva's satisfaction was short-lived. Why on earth hadn't the Aurors noticed it before? And how had Hermione spotted it to begin with? She added those questions to her growing mental list and followed Hermione into the corridor, where they found Severus examining some dark patches on the wooden door frame of the Malfoy's carriage. She gestured for him to follow her out the window, which he did, paddling awkwardly.

Chief Pikeslayer led them to a wide, flat rock near the edge of the crash site. Given that only the Chief could approve the removal of evidence form the lake, Minerva dearly hoped whatever the case contained would be convincing.

Hermione unclipped the luggage strap and set it carefully aside. The suitcase was quite old, and its brass latches and hinges were battered and barely functional. Hermione released the clasps with her thumbs and gently lifted the lid to reveal the contents.

At first, there appeared only to be clothing stuffed haphazardly into the case. Ambient currents sent sleeves drifting as Hermione attempted to set the fabric aside. Minerva rolled her eyes and Transfigured one of the blouses into a mesh bag, into which she stuffed the clothes, shoes, and other useless personal items. Minerva's heart sank as more clothes went into the bag, revealing the stained fabric that lined the bottom of the case. There was nothing notable in the main compartment whatsoever.

Hermione's lips were pursed as she stuck her hand inside the fabric pouch on the inside of the lid and withdrew a supremely ugly brassiere. However, her eyes widened in surprise as she turned the brassiere over to show them an old brass water tap, which looked like it had been liberated from one of the Hogwarts toilets, that had been nestled inside one of the cups.

She held it close to examine it and after a moment, her eyes widened and she began to gesture frantically for Severus and Minerva to come closer. Minerva adjusted her glasses and leaned forward to see what had caught Hermione's interest. There was a tiny snake carved into the handle. Umbridge had stolen the tap that Tom Riddle had installed to access the Chamber of Secrets.

While Severus and Minerva exchanged glances, Hermione stuck her hand into the pouch and withdrew a book. It was quite old and may have once been dark blue, but the leather had grown faded and blotchy. Any words that had been stamped into the cover had been lost to the vicissitudes of time, but the iron rings welded to the spine marked the book as one that had been stolen the Restricted Section. Given that the book had already been underwater for over a day, Minerva dared not open the cover, lest the ancient book be damaged, and she held it gingerly against her breast, hoping that it could be dried out back at the school.

Hermione put her hand into the pouch a third time and this time removed a handful of underpants, which she immediately released, disgust clear on her face. Minerva tutted silently and added Umbridge's underwear to the mesh bag. One more sweep of the hand through the pouch revealed no additional contents, and Hermione stepped back to allow Minerva and Severus to examine the suitcase on their own.

Minerva leaned forward and felt along the inside of the suitcase. The fabric lining the bottom of the case was soiled in places, but something about it gave Minerva pause. She had seen suitcases like this when she had been younger, and they were usually lined with heavier material. This flimsy print was almost certainly of a newer vintage than the suitcase, which meant that it had been replaced at some point.

She turned the empty suitcase upside-down on the rock and began to rap her knuckles along the bottom wall, which thumped dully underwater until her knuckles struck a section that gave a much deeper and hollow sounding _thok_.

Ahah.

She turned the suitcase over once more and began to pick at the fabric lining the bottom interior, which made Hermione shout a stream of bubbles in protest, but she quieted when the lining lifted neatly away from the case to reveal a secret compartment that had been cut into the thick wooden wall of the suitcase. Inside was a stack of letters in parchment envelopes, all of which were addressed to Edlira Zagreda in Tirana, but printed in blocky letters that revealed nothing about the sender.

Minerva glanced at Chief Pikeslayer, who was watching the proceedings with interest. Minerva made an expansive gesture at the suitcase and held out the letters for his inspection.

“You may take the suitcase and its contents,” he said at last. “My men will escort you back to the shallows.”

Hermione made an exaggerated bow of thanks, which made Minerva roll her eyes, but she allowed herself a nod at Chief Pikeslayer and let herself be escorted back.

Severus had to be towed again in order to get them back to shore before the Gillyweed began to wear off. Minerva was already coming up with drowning puns to use during their next chess match.  
The first letter read simply:

_D,_

_I know who you are, and we have something in common. If you still believe what you did twenty years ago, we may be of service to one another. I propose a meeting where you left your things in two years' time. Unless, of course, they've already been found.  
Sincerely, _

_A Like-Minded Individual_

But they quickly took a turn for the personal.

_D,_

_Given the ease with which I uncovered your whereabouts, it would be advisable for you to disguise your appearance in an impenetrable way. Please find enclosed sufficient Muggle money to make this a reality and to see you through your convalescence. Muggles may be vile, but there are some things they do well._

_Sincerely,_

_A Like-Minded Individual_

_I wonder what you will look like when we meet. I found you admirable and formidable before. That much, I trust, will remain unchanged..._

_I am aware of what you have done and beg you to make frequent use of this potion. It is illegal in England, but it may be too new to have come to the attention of the Albanian Ministry. Your fearlessness will be rewarded..._

_The easiest way for you to gain access to the celebration would be in the guise of a foreign academic. I trust you have sufficient resources to establish an affiliation, but just to be safe, I have enclosed enough Galleons to pay for the upcoming year's fees. I do so look forward to seeing you in a year and a half..._

_I was forced to sit next to a Muggle-born at a hearing today. I could barely keep my gorge from rising. With your convictions and my resources, we will be unstoppable. Only twelve months more..._

Minerva felt disgusted by the time she reached the bottom of the stack. So Umbridge hadn't been acting of her own accord; she had been lured to Hogwarts by an unknown ally of this, with whom she would work to accomplish some nefarious purpose. The ally had money and claimed to have connections. But the letters had only said to meet where Umbridge had apparently “left her things” at Hogwarts, and the ally's promises were maddeningly vague.

Between her own experience and Harry Potter's temporary loan of the Marauder's Map, Minerva knew every square inch of Hogwarts, and the only place Umbridge could have hidden things without discovery was the Room of Requirement. Of course, everything in it had been destroyed in the Fiendfyre episode during the very battle they had commemorated. Umbridge couldn't have known that. Whether her ally knew that was a very different question, to which Minerva was fairly certain the answer was “yes,” and the letters had likely been written by her murderer.

To Minerva's irritation, Hermione argued that the letters' author might have wanted to lure Umbridge to Hogwarts for another purpose entirely. Severus laughed nastily and pointed out that intention aside, Umbridge was now dead, and her mysterious ally was still stirring things up in her absence.

Hermione protested that there was only circumstantial evidence linking the theft of Neville's Gillyweed to Umbridge's death, and the two unleashed a remarkable volley of arguments that made Minerva's neck ache from looking back and forth between them. The two were, she had to admit, on equal footing when it came to acerbic responses quick thinking. 

The argument continued through dinner, which made the house-elves nervous, after which Minerva announced that she needed some time to herself and assured her co-investigators that she looked forward to catching up with them in the morning.

She beat a hasty retreat to her office, where she made herself a double-strength toddy that was nearly as good as the one Severus had made her the previous night. How on earth could fewer than forty-eight hours have passed since the Hogwarts Express had crashed into the lake?

Minerva closed her eyes and let the warmth of the drink spread through her body. She ceased trying to draw connections between the disparate clues and dubious claims and let her mind flit from thought to thought without any guidance from her. 

She saw the lake in her mind's eye, green grass waving, which faded into the greenish gloom that lit the Chamber of Secrets, and the green emeralds that represented the eyes of the snakes on the Chamber door, and the great green Slytherin serpent itself, which split into hundreds of smaller Slytherin crests, each of which began to glow and illuminate the hundreds of faces of Slytherins she had known at Hogwarts. Every clue seemed to be pointing in the same direction, and she suddenly felt her anger flare because the connections were too easy. Too neat. She had to be missing something.

Belatedly, she realised that she'd left the stolen library book in the Great Hall, and with a sigh, she heaved herself to her feet with a groan—she was rather tired from swimming—and began the long walk from her office. Still, her feet had other ideas, and instead of walking straight to the Great Hall, she found herself walking one of her numerous patrol routes. There was a light on in the Hospital Wing, and Minerva heard the unmistakable sound of a Muggle crime procedural, presumably being watched by the Matron and her Herbology Teacher, and smiled.

She continued her circuitous walk towards the Great Hall, taking an overactive staircase to the base of the Astronomy Tower, then past the common rooms and the entrance to the library, where a flicker of light caught her eye.

Minerva's well-honed student-catching stealth immediately took over, and she dropped into a crouch, which rendered her footsteps all but silent. The light flickered again from the direction of the Restricted Section, and Minerva weaved soundlessly through the shelves in near-total darkness. She could hear voices, a man's and a woman's, but they were too low to be intelligible. If any of Hermione Granger's Aurors thought to help themselves to the contents of the Restricted Section, she and Hermione were going to have words.

Minerva paused. That wasn't entirely fair. Hermione respected the library. The girl had spent more time in it than any student since Severus, desperately searching for information that children raised in Magical households took for granted, information that would somehow make her normal. Of course, there was nothing normal about the girl, and that had to have been a difficult burden to bear on top of the prejudices she faced as a Muggle-born. Frankly, Minerva wondered why it hadn't been a strategy that more Muggle-born students had attempted, given Hermione's remarkable academic performance.

She squared her shoulders and continued towards the interlopers. Their voices had fallen silent, and Minerva increased her pace as she rounded the corner of the last shelf, through which the illuminated globe the trespassers were using was clearly visible. 

Oh.

Oh dear.

Hermione Granger and Severus Snape stood next to the table locked in a decidedly more-than-friendly embrace, their mouths crashing together and hands buried deep in one another's hair.

Minerva resisted the urge to clear her throat, equally enthralled and repulsed by the scene in front of her. Yes, they were both adults, but Minerva reflexively recoiled from seeing an ex-student and teacher with their tongues down one another's throats. A wooden chair groaned as Severus pushed it aside, need naked on his face. Hermione smouldered up at him, her hair in disarray and her robes partially unfastened, as she slowly, deliberately lay back on the table, her eyes never leaving Severus's.

Surely they weren't—oh sweet Circe, they were. She had no idea Severus had been sitting on a bum that perfectly proportioned all these years.

Minerva shook her head to rid herself of the thought, and white-hot fury took hold. How dare they! How dare they do such a thing in the Restricted Section of her library! How dare they look at one another that way, after days, nay, weeks of dissembling and pretending they hated one another? To what possible end were they hiding what was obviously a deeply intimate relationship of long standing?

She was about to cast _Aguamenti_ on the pair of them when she noticed a book with a faded blue leather cover on the table next to them: the book that had been in Umbridge's suitcase. 

A silent Hover Charm sent the book shooting silently to her hiding place. Hermione and Severus didn't notice it move. 

Minerva was certain that they would realise it was gone once they'd finished rutting. She greatly anticipated seeing their expressions in the morning.  
The Great Hall was empty but for a handful of junior Aurors, who were up to their ears in piles of forms. Minerva nodded at Peterson, who had been a Ravenclaw prefect less than four years ago, and entered Hermione's bubble, which Severus had insisted be charmed to admit himself and Minerva.

There were notes and papers three deep connecting interview testimony, and the enormous glowing outline of the train looked as though it had been scribbled on by a child, so interconnected and seemingly random were the lines connecting the passengers, particularly in Carriage A.

There was nothing she hadn't already seen, and the tiny letters and bright outline were threatening to make her headache return, so Minerva exited the bubble and wandered over to where the flying carriage springs were laid out. Using them to levitate the train had been a stroke of genius on the saboteur's part. They had simply been lying there for anyone to find.

Minerva ran her wand along the springs, letting the magical steel set her wand vibrating. They had been made to last in a way that magical objects were rarely built and bespelled nowadays. She sighed and was about to move on when her fingers brushed one of the rustier springs, and she felt an unexpected tug: subtle, but unmistakable.

She lifted the offending spring and felt along its curved top to the pointed joins and felt remnants of the magical energy that Severus had described, which had joined all the springs together with enough power to lift the train. But something about it was decidedly odd.

The magic running through the rusty spring felt subtly different from the one that had been dented, and the dented spring vibrated with far less intensity than the one that had clearly been pieced together from two broken springs. Even the springs in excellent condition felt distinct from one another in such a way that Minerva couldn't explain away by attributing their creation to different blacksmiths.

She set the spring down and glanced at the Auror's notes that Hermione had initialled to indicate that she'd read them. None of them mentioned the disparity in magical intensity and how it might have affected the train's flight.

Strange. Hermione had been passionate about Arithmancy as a student. Arithmantic analysis might suggest a reason for the variety or reveal whether or not the original plan had been to crash the train into the castle, as the driver had claimed. However, Arithmancy wasn't Minerva's strong suit. Perhaps Hermione knew something she didn't.

At last, Minerva re-entered the bubble, where she wouldn't be disturbed, and laid the book she carried on the table in the centre of the room. After doing a quick spell to ensure that the book was dry and that its spine wouldn't crack when opened, Minerva pulled back the cover to reveal the book's identity.

_The Life and Times of Salazar Slytherin:_   
_Magnificent Theorys and Moste Importante Symbols_   
_by Orlagh Gaunt_

Minerva stared at the title, dumbstruck. Of all the books that Umbridge could have stolen, this absurd treatise, written by one of Voldemort's less clever ancestors, was only notable for having the first recorded instance of the spell used to create the Dark Mark, which is why it was in the Restricted Section. She supposed it might have some value to historically-minded pure-blood supremacists, but by and large, it was useless compared to more scholarly works on Slytherin's work.

Suddenly, Minerva's breath hitched. She stared at the book, and then began to giggle. Soon, her giggle grew into a fully-fledged cackle, and soon she was laughing so hard that she had to sit down, lest she fall over.

A moment later, a bright light flashed out of the corner of her eye, and she realised that two of the junior Aurors were trying to unseal the bubble and making a hash of it.

Minerva collected herself, the corners of her mouth still twitching, and opened the bubble.

“May I be of some assistance?”

The young men looked at one another before answering her question. “Sorry,” said the darker-haired of the two. “We thought you were having a fit.”

Minerva was unable to hold back a peal of laughter. “Not at all,” she said. “I'm merely suffering from an abundance of clues.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning found Minerva in her office, nibbling at one of the house elves' superb toffee scones and awaiting the arrival of her guests. Two hours remained before Hermione was due to report the investigation's progress to all and sundry in the Great Hall. Minvera was quite looking forward to Hermione's presentation in light of what she herself planned to reveal.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione and Severus were first to arrive, still putting on a show of bickering. Hannah Longbottom entered warily, taking a seat as far away from them as possible, followed finally by Minister Finch-Fletchley, who seemed happy enough to take the seat between them, opposite Minerva.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, offering them each a cup of tea, which Hannah and Justin accepted but Hermione and Severus declined. “I particularly appreciate you coming early at the last minute,” she said to the Minister.

“I might be relatively new to my post,” said Justin, smiling, “but I know better than to ignore any summons from you. You aren't the sort to abuse the privilege.”

“Thank you, Minister,” said Minerva, inclining her head. “Now I know we're all quite exhausted, so I'll come straight to the point. As of last night, I had not arrived at a single solution to the matter at hand—”

Hermione frowned. “Severus and I had planned to fill you in on what we discovered last night—“

Minerva held up her hand. “I'm not finished, Ms. Granger. I was about to say that I had not arrived at a single solution, but three.”

This rather extraordinary pronouncement was met with expressions ranging from shock on Justin's face and surprise on Hannah's, to grudging interest from Hermione and utter blankness from Severus.

“I gathered the four of you together so that I might present all three solutions, and we may then discuss which solution best suits the evidence.”

“Gracious,” said Justin. “I suppose you had better get on with it, then.”

“Thank you,” said Minerva. “Now, the facts we can all agree on: the Hogwarts Express was sabotaged using flying springs that had once been part of the school's carriages. Just before, during, or slightly after the crash, Edlira Zagreda, now known to be Dolores Umbridge in disguise, received a fatal blow to the back of the head, and her lungs were filled with fresh water. Additionally, a Dark Mark was cast into the sky.”

“You make it sound as if the events were unrelated,” remarked Severus.

“Nonsense,” said Justin. “Of course they were. They had to have been!”

“I think it likely, Minister, but let us be methodical. A wand presumed to be Umbridge's was found near her body, and _Prior Incanto_ revealed that it had been used to cast the Dark Mark. Umbridge's suitcase was found to contain a stolen copy of Orlagh Gaunt's book about Salazar Slytherin, which contained instructions for casting the Dark Mark, which suggests that Umbridge retained her hatred of Muggles, and the Hogwarts Express, which has long been a symbol of wizardkind's attempts to bridge the divide between our worlds, was a natural target.”

“Motive, means, and opportunity,” muttered Hannah.

Minerva cleared her throat and continued. “An unregistered Portkey was found in her compartment, timed to the crash and tied to the general area where Umbridge was in hiding. As Madam Longbottom succinctly said, she had motive, means, and opportunity to sabotage the train and escape, having framed one of several known or suspected associates of Voldemort's for the crime. 

“However, Umbridge was far more adept at intimidation than she was at thinking on her feet. Immediately after casting the Dark Mark from the vacant number two compartment, where she had also activated the series of flying springs used to levitate the train, was unable to reach the Portkey in her number twelve compartment at the back of the train when the passengers moved their luggage into the corridor on my order. As she tried to escape, she was struck in the head by an unsecured piece of luggage and knocked unconscious. She drowned when the carriage became submerged in the lake.”

“But that doesn't explain how the fresh water got into her lungs,” said Hannah.

“And it ignores numerous other clues,” said Hermione. “What about the monogrammed handkerchief in her handbag or the beater's bat in her compartment? And it doesn't explain what happened to the stolen Gillyweed.”

“Not to mention the letters that lured her to Hogwarts,” said Severus.

“Yes, yes,” said Minerva impatiently. “That was only my first solution. I have two others that you may find to be more compelling. My second solution is somewhat more complicated, I'm afraid. Now, in a hidden compartment of Umbridge's suitcase, we discovered a stack of letters from an unknown correspondent inviting Umbridge to come to Hogwarts for the twentieth anniversary celebrations, which suggests that she had an accomplice in the sabotage who was politically connected enough to discover where Umbridge was hiding and shared her mania for blood purity. The unknown accomplice may still be lurking about Hogwarts attempting to mislead the investigation by stealing Gillyweed in order to plant clues, like the beater's bat, which has been thoroughly tested and shown not to be the murder weapon.”

“You think it was planted there to incriminate someone else?” asked Justin.

“I think it probable,” said Minerva. “Furthermore, it took us a suspiciously long time to locate Umbridge's suitcase, which suggests that the items in it, both of which have direct ties to Voldemort himself, may have been planted as well to incriminate his former associates.”

“That would be myself and Lucius,” said Severus blandly.

“But why would he incriminate himself by planting the letters?” asked Justin. “Or she,” he added belatedly.

“The accomplice might not have known the letters were there,” said Minerva. “The planted clues were inside the suitcase, but the letters were more cleverly hidden in the suitcase's wall. I suspect the accomplice swam to the bottom of the lake, stole Umbridge's suitcase before the Aurors got there, filled it with evidence to support the more obvious first theory, and returned later to plant it near the train to be found.”

“But there were Merfolk and Aurors at the wreck the entire time,” said Hermione sceptically. “Unless you mean to suggest that Umbridge's accomplice was one of them.”

“Severus, would it be possible for a Wizard to use Polyjuice Potion to appear as one of the Aurors and then take Gillyweed while transformed?”

“An interesting question,” said Severus, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I'd have to check the literature to see if it's ever been attempted,” he said, after a moment's pause, “but it might not necessarily produce catastrophic results, since it would not directly involve an interspecies transformation.”

It took every ounce of Minerva's self-control not to smile at Severus's subtle dig at Hermione's failed experiment with Polyjuice when she had been a student, especially when Hermione shot him a poisonous glare.

“So it's possible that Umbridge's ally could have stolen the suitcase undetected,” said Minerva. “Now, presumably this ally would have been close at hand to assist Umbridge with crashing the train. It would explain why she was in Carriage A to begin with, having nothing but house affiliation in common with the others present.”

“How many people were in that carriage?” asked Hannah.

“Twelve, including Cresswell, the conductor,” said Severus.

“And, apart from Cresswell, all Slytherins,” said Minerva. “All with some known connection to Tom Riddle or demonstrated sympathy for his beliefs. Each of the passengers vouched for one another's whereabouts. However, each of the clues seems to be pointing at a different suspect, albeit clumsily. The lady's handkerchief, with its M monogram, would seem to implicate Narcissa Malfoy, who claimed that it wasn't hers, and Lucius confirmed her claim in a separate interview. Warrington, Pucey, and Montague each denied owning the beater's bat that was found in Umbridge's compartment, despite having all been on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Given that they all played chaser, their claims are easy to believe, but why would Umbridge's ally plant such an obviously false clue? And what about Lydia Ollivander, who was reluctant to claim that the wand that had cast the Dark Mark belonged to Umbridge? Would she fail to recognise the handiwork of her own son or grandchildren? And why would the Malfoys, the chasers, and Lydia Ollivander lie? To protect Umbridge's accomplice, or to protect themselves?”

“If you believe that the clues were planted, then it's unlikely that any of them are pointing to the actual accomplice,” said Hannah.

“That would leave us with Severus, Millicent Bulstrode, who was on Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad if memory serves, Delphine Zabini, Charles Greengrass, and Horace Slughorn,” said Minerva.

“And Richie Cresswell,” added Hannah. “Unless you don't think it was him because he wasn't in Slytherin?”

“Now, now,” said Justin. “We have no room for house prejudices in this investigation. That's why I wanted Professor Snape involved.”

“Even though Professor Snape is one of the suspects?” asked Hannah. “I don't think you thought that through very well.”

Minerva turned a snicker into a cough.

“This entire theory is ridiculous,” said Hermione, crossing her arms. “Millicent Bulstrode was only on the Inquisitorial Squad because Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson would have shunned her if she hadn't. And Professor Slughorn doesn't leave his house without eight different motives. I can't imagine him luring Umbridge to Hogwarts to crash the Express with the both of them still on it. And while Blaise may be a prejudiced twat, his mother has had at least three mixed marriages to date. Delphine Zabini certainly doesn't hate Muggles.”

“Charles Greengrass and his wife resisted strong pressure to join the Death Eaters,” said Severus. “Though given the purity of his bloodline, most of us thought that it was because the Dark Lord lacked a pedigree he could respect. Given that Umbridge herself was a half-blood, I can't imagine he would throw in his lot with her. I'm afraid that just leaves me.”

Minerva ignored the knife-like throb her heart gave hearing Severus state the case so baldly. “It would seem to,” said Minerva. “Unless the clues were meant simply to muddy the water so we wouldn't see the obvious answer staring us in the face.”

“What do you mean?” asked Justin.

“Lucius Malfoy suggested that Slytherins set themselves apart for their own safety. The reputation of their house has suffered since Salazar Slytherin left the school centuries ago, and periodically, someone that shares his mania for pure blood comes along to further tarnish the house's reputation. It's been twenty years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the children of those who were children at the time are an entirely new generation, with inter-house unity that wasn't possible in Voldemort's shadow. Slytherins and Gryffindors have a rivalry but aren't an existential threat to one another the way they once were. But the wounds of the past were reopened five years ago when Dolores Umbridge was released from Azkaban for good behaviour. That was just before you became head of Magical Law Enforcement, wasn't it, Ms. Granger?”

“It was.”

“And not long before you became Minister, Mr. Finch-Fletchley?”

“True.”

“I'm certain you all recall the public outrage. There was an entire edition of the Evening Prophet filled with the text of Howlers. I seem to recall one written by Lydia Ollivander that complained that Umbridge had besmirched the honour of Slytherin House by fomenting anti-Muggleborn sentiment of a more virulent stripe than Voldemort ever had.”

Hannah frowned. “What does that have to do with the accomplice?”

“It suggests that perhaps there was not one accomplice, but many of them.”

“Oh!” gasped Hannah. “You mean they weren't actually 'accomplices' at all! They lured her out of hiding and then killed her for trying to stir up old resentments!”

“A Slytherin conspiracy?” asked Justin dubiously.

“But that doesn't explain Richie Cresswell,” exclaimed Hannah. “Surely he would have seen something noteworthy before getting knocked out, especially if all of them had cursed Umbridge hard enough to kill her.”

“And you think that Severus Snape, who spied for Dumbledore at great personal risk, decided to join his old school mates for a spot of murder for old times' sake?” asked Hermione, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “I can't believe you're even suggesting this rubbish.”

“I don't know,” said Severus. “It's certainly a plot convoluted enough to have been cooked up by Slytherins after consuming a great deal of Firewhisky.”

“Shut up,” said Hermione fiercely. “You are not going to incriminate yourself in such a transparently ridiculous conjecture.”

“If the alternative means continuing to participate in this investigation, a nice, quiet cell in Azkaban begins to sound more attractive.”

Hannah seemed torn between amusement and concern. “I don't like this theory either. I can't believe that the Malfoys and the former Inquisitorial Squad would be so hypocritical as to kill Umbridge for embodying believes that they themselves once espoused. You said you had one more option, didn't you, Minerva?”

“Are you quite certain you don't like my first two?” asked Minerva. “Because I'm quite certain you will find the last to be the most far-fetched of the lot.”

“I haven't time to read much these days,” said Justin. “Perhaps far-fetched is precisely what I need.”

Hermione let out a loud huff, but she gestured for Minerva to continue.

“As you all can see, this investigation is anything but straightforward,” said Minerva. “I have had reason to doubt a number of the interviewees, to disregard a great deal of potentially tainted evidence, and I've had to think more about Dolores Umbridge than I ever wished to do. However, I kept coming back to one question: how on earth did the witch who sells sweets on the Hogwarts Express end up walking along the tracks with no memory of how she got there? Or of most of her adult life?”

“Our working theory was that Umbridge turned her treats trolley into a Portkey and embedded a Memory Charm into it,” said Hermione. 

“Why would she have done that?” asked Minerva.

“Presumably because she saw Umbridge installing the flying springs,” said Hermione. “If Umbridge had cast a Memory Charm on her then and there, her absence would have delayed the train's departure, which would have rendered Umbridge's escape Portkey unusable.”

“But why remove her from the train at all?” asked Minerva. “Assuming she survived the crash, which was by no means certain given her advanced age, she would have identified Umbridge as Edlira Zagreda, of whom no-one knew anything, and Umbridge herself would have been long gone.”

“Because Umbridge wanted to create a phantom Death Eater to sow fear and suspicion,” said Hermione. “If the treats trolley witch had seen her in the act of sabotaging the train, her grand act of mayhem would have been the work of an obscure witch from Albania—a far less terrifying suspect.”

“Have you ever embedded a Memory Charm into an object?” asked Minerva. “Because if you have, I believe you're crediting Umbridge with far more skill than she actually possessed. And not just any Memory Charm—one powerful enough to erase over a hundred years of memories.”

“Perhaps the charms were cast by her accomplice,” said Hannah.

“That's one possibility,” said Minerva.

“Can we cast _Prior Incanto_ on all of the wands owned by those who were in Carriage A?” asked Hannah.

“It only shows the most recent spell,” said Hermione impatiently. “Everyone will have used their wands in the past two days.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” said Minerva. “You see, I don't think the person that wrote Umbridge those letters was in Carriage A.”

“How do you reckon that?” asked Hannah. 

“Because the conductors would have seen a single person going from carriage to carriage with a large supply of flying springs.”

Hermione tutted. “Obviously, the springs had been Shrunk. And the train had been sitting at the platform for two hours before anyone boarded. There was ample opportunity for a single person to have installed them all.”

“Without anyone seeing them? That would be quite a feat.”

“No-one, of the hundreds of people we interviewed, reported seeing anybody suspicious under the train, least of all any Albanian academics,” said Hermione, crossing her arms.

“Then perhaps they were installed by someone who had business being under the train,” said Minerva.

“You're accusing poor Nick Bartleby of being in league with Umbridge?” asked Severus.

“Not at all,” said Minerva. “I'm merely accusing him of installing the springs that crashed the train.”

“What possible motive could he have for destroying his own livelihood?” asked Hermione.

“I'm glad you asked that. How do you think next year's students will get to Hogwarts?”

“I assumed the train would be replaced,” said Hannah. “It will, won't it?”

“Where on earth would they find an identical steam engine?” scoffed Severus.

“If I had any say in the matter, which I do as Headmistress, I would request something a bit more modern,” said Minerva. “The Express was a charming institution, but it hardly represents Muggle ingenuity these days. I'd say it rather confirms prejudices about Muggles as a backwards race.”

“All right, so perhaps we'll have the Hogwarts Magic-Lev starting next term,” said Hermione impatiently. “And perhaps Nick Bartleby thought he might have a nicer train to drive, but that seems like a rather extreme action, and it doesn't explain how or why he would have been involved with Umbridge.”

“I don't think he was, directly,” said Minerva.

“But you said he installed the flying springs,” said Hannah. “That means he's Umbridge's accomplice.”

“No, it means that he helped to crash the train. I don't believe Umbridge did.”

Severus, Hermione, Justin, and Hannah all began speaking at once, and Minerva raised her hand for silence.

“Tell me,” asked Minerva, “what concrete evidence do we have that Umbridge sabotaged the Hogwarts Express?”

“I rather think the wand used to cast the Dark Mark is fairly concrete,” said Hermione acidly.

“The wand was used to do the spell and was found near Umbridge, yes, but we do not have confirmation that the wand belonged to her, nor can we confirm that she cast the spell that activated the flying springs.”

“What about the Portkey back to Albania?” asked Hermione.

“Or Macedonia or Bulgaria,” said Minerva. “That might have been planted as well. We already know the crime scene has been tampered with. That casts doubt on all the evidence, not just the evidence that doesn't support our pet theories.”

“But the letters!” exclaimed Hannah. “Those prove that Umbridge was up to no good!”

“We don't have any of the letters that Umbridge wrote,” said Minerva. “And there is nothing about sabotage in the ones that we do have. The self-proclaimed Like-Minded Individual may express horrid sentiments, but there's nothing specific about taking action. They might just as easily be read as particularly revolting love letters.”

“I say,” said Justin in a small voice. “When you put it that way, there's not much of a case against Umbridge, is there?”

“There didn't need to be,” said Minerva. “With her past record, it's all too easy to think her capable of destroying the Express. What's more difficult is imagining why others might wish to.”

“I don't think Nick Bartleby did it to get a new train, even if he had the means and opportunity,” said Hannah. “That motive is even more ridiculous than the Slyltherins killing Umbridge for house honour.”

“I quite agree,” said Minerva. “So we must look beyond that. Who would stand to gain from Umbridge being sent back to Azkaban for a wanton act of destruction?”

“You mean besides the entire world?” asked Hermione with a bitter laugh.

“I thought so too, at first,” said Minerva. “I mean, I quite agree that the world would be a fairer place without Umbridge walking around freely. But I'm pleased to report that there are very few young people nowadays who care two Knutsworth about her, or, I daresay, the war itself.”

“I don't think there's anything to be gained,” said Hannah. “Revenge seems a much more likely motive for killing Umbridge.”

“We have not yet begun to discuss Umbridge's death,” said Minerva. “But I do believe you're right   
that the motive was revenge.”

“We received hundreds of Howlers when she was released from Azkaban,” said Justin. “That hardly narrows things down.”

“I rather think it does,” said Minerva. “You may recall that I delivered your Hogwarts letter to you many years ago, Minister?”

“Of course,” said Justin. “As if I'd forget a thing like that.”

“I delivered hundreds of Hogwarts letters to Muggle-born students during my tenure as Deputy Headmistress,” said Minerva. “I couldn't help but notice that there were a number of them and their offspring on the train. Rather a higher proportion of them than I'd expected.”

“I can't speak for the others, of course,” said Hermione, “but I chose to ride the train that day because it was the first Magical thing I ever saw that made me feel at home.”

“Did you know that Lydia Ollivander was Muggle-born?” asked Minerva. “I didn't until I started looking into family records for all of the passengers in Carriage A.”

“A Muggle-born Slytherin?” asked Hannah, eyes wide. “She must be quite a witch.”

“That she is,” said Minerva. “Between Lydia Ollivander and Richie Cresswell, whose father Dirk was killed when he fled Umbridge, I'd say Carriage A contained a critical mass of people who hated her.”

“Wait a moment,” said Justin. “Are you accusing Lydia Ollivander and Richie Cresswell of killing Umbridge or of helping Nick Bartleby destroy the Express?”

“The latter, though I promise we will also discuss Umbridge's death. I presume Lydia, who likely provided the wand we found, was the one who cast the spell activating the flying spring, seeing as it was beneath the vacant compartment next to hers.”

“That doesn't make any sense,” said Hermione. “Why would Lydia activate a flying spring, if, as you allege, Nick Bartleby installed them and would have been able to calculate the speed and trajectory necessary for the train to end up in the lake? Doesn't having two people activating the springs contradict Severus's description of a line of magic connecting the flying springs?”

“It does, I'm afraid, but I don't blame Severus for wishing to shield one of the conspirators from suspicion.”

“Who, Lydia Ollivander?” asked Hannah, sounding utterly bewildered.

“No, I mean one of the other conspirators. You see, I believe there was one in each carriage.”

“I thought you said today's students didn't know anything about Umbridge,” said Justin, sounding horrified.

“They don't,” said Minerva. “However, a number of adults chose to ride in the student compartments. Isn't that correct, Ms. Granger?”

“I was in the first student carriage when the train took off,” said Hermione stiffly, “as you well know.”

“Isn't that also the beginning of the sweet-seller's route?” asked Minerva. 

“I didn't notice,” said Hermione. “I had my children's luggage to settle.”

“A pair of student trunks would have been excellent for blocking an onlooker's line of sight if one wished to cast complicated magic on the witch and her trolley,” said Minerva.

Hermione's face grew grim. “What are you saying, Minerva?”

“That against a Muggle-born who was one of the most determined, formidable students I have ever taught, Umbridge didn't stand a chance,” said Minerva with quiet certainty. “As a Muggle-born, you knew that Umbridge's release was breeding resentment among her many victims and their families. As head of Magical Law Enforcement, you would have been privy to the details of her release and resettlement. As someone who understood Umbridge well enough to lure her into the Forbidden Forest when you were a mere slip of a teenager, you knew exactly how to entice her to Hogwarts and goad her into action. As someone who required Madam Pince to purchase a second copy of Hogwarts: A History, you knew that Hogwarts once had flying carriages. And as someone well-connected at the Ministry, you were ideally placed to put the talents of an obscure group of wizards and witches to the task of planning and executing an airtight plan to crash the Hogwarts Express, unmask and frame Hogwarts for it, thus sending her back to Azkaban for life.”

Hannah Abbot's mouth was hanging open. Justin looked as though he were about to faint. Hermione and Severus wore identical blank expressions.

Justin recovered first. “I say. Who else was involved?”

Minerva glanced at the passenger manifest. “Richie Cresswell, Teddy Tonks, and the Cattermole sisters all lost parents to the Snatchers after fleeing Umbridge's vile Muggle-Born Registration Commission. Lydia Ollivander, Nick Bartleby, and Kevin Entwhistle endured Umbridge's prison camps. The more well-connected fled abroad, like former Minister Nobby Leach and Donaghan Tremlett, the latter of whom was forbidden to perform in England due to his Muggle-born status. And both Hermione and Dennis Creevey opposed Umbridge as part of Dumbledore's Army, refused to return to Hogwarts, and returned to fight in the final battle. That accounts for one in each coach, plus the locomotive. It also explains why all the compartments, save those in Carriage A where things weren't going according to plan, bore the vestiges of exactly the same Cushioning Charm. It had all been planned ahead of time to minimise injuries.”

“Good lord,” said Justin weakly.

“There was, of course, one more member of this Muggle-born conspiracy to destroy the train,” said Minerva. “Ms. Granger is a formidable opponent of prejudice, but she became the head of Magical Law Enforcement because she believes deeply in institutional justice. I couldn't reconcile her actions until I realised that permission to do so must have come from the highest levels of the Ministry. Someone who had been deeply affected by Umbridge's actions. Someone capable of creating an illegal Portkey using the Ministry's own resources.”

Justin swallowed. “Ah,” he said.

Hannah's eyes were the size of dinner plates as she looked back and forth between Justin and Hermione. “I don't understand!” she exclaimed at last. “If they all crashed the train to frame Umbridge, who actually killed her and why?”

“Judging by the hastily-scrubbed hex marks in the Malfoys' compartment, I'd say it was Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus,” said Minerva. “As to why, I believe Severus was engaging in a wrong-headed attempt to save Hermione from herself.”

Hermione let out a truly alarming sound that seemed to be a combination of a snort and a guffaw, though the overall effect was of someone with a chronic sinus problem laughing water out of her nose.

Severus's eyes narrowed but he remained silent, wordlessly daring Minerva to explain herself. She met his eye.

Well, in for a Knut. “You were hardly discreet,” she said. “And in the Restricted Section, too.”

This time, the unexpected laughter came from Justin. Hannah's face completely drained of colour. 

“They didn't,” she said.

“All right,” said Hermione. “I happily confess to the crime of being in love with Severus Snape. However, I have school-aged children and a very loud ex-husband. Surely you can understand my desire to keep my relationships quiet.”

Minerva cleared her throat. They had been anything but quiet.

Severus had gone a deep shade of cranberry, and Minerva felt a twinge of sympathy for having his private affairs aired in mixed company, but it didn't last long.

“Did you wish to say anything before I continue with my conjecture?” she asked him.

“When you're doing so well? I daren't interrupt,” said Severus drily.

“Severus discovered some aspect of the Muggle-born conspiracy and pressed the truth, or part of it, anyway, out of Hermione. Of the two of them, Hermione was far more in the public eye and had far more to lose professionally, so Severus had Narcissa make friendly overtures towards Umbridge, which is how she came to possess Narcissa's handkerchief. She then invited Umbridge to her and Lucius's compartment, where Severus met them after failing to talk Hermione out of her plan, a conversation I myself overheard. The plan, I suspect, was to encourage Umbridge to leave the train before it left the platform, thus forcing the Muggle-borns to abandon their plan. Unfortunately, Umbridge had no intention of letting her interlocutors get the better of her, and she hexed Lucius.”

Minerva glanced at each of the others in turn. “This was Umbridge's final poor decision. The Slytherins' collective counterattack sent her flying across the compartment, where she hit her head on the back of the door, killing her instantly.”

Hannah was rapt. “Then what happened?”

“Severus recognised Richie Cresswell as a likely member of the Muggle-born conspiracy, who summoned Lydia Ollivander upon Severus's revelation of Umbridge's body. In the final moments before the train's departure, they decided to continue with the Muggle-borns' plan and make it appear as though she had drowned in the crash by casting _Aguamenti_ up her nose. Lydia planted the false wand on Umbridge, while Richie Cresswell planted the Portkey in her compartment as originally planned, and the beater's bat was later planted in Umbridge's compartment to draw suspicion away from the Malfoys and Severus. Because of this flurry of activity, neither Richie Cresswell nor Lydia Ollivander had the opportunity to ensure that all of the passengers had cast Cushioning Charms on their compartments.”

“What about Neville's stolen Gillyweed?” asked Hannah.

“That was Severus,” said Minerva. “A combination of Polyjuice potion and Gillyweed, if I'm not much mistaken, gave him the access to the crash site needed to plant the clues and steal Umbridge's suitcase. I was nearly taken in by Severus pretending to be a poor swimmer, at least until last night, when I had the opportunity to observe his physique, which is, shall we say, not consistent with a sedentary lifestyle. Now, I don't suppose any of you have any questions about this particular hypothesis?”

“You're not going to accuse me of complicity in all this, are you?” asked Hannah.

“Merely of forensic ingenuity,” said Minerva. She smiled and turned to face Justin. “Well, Minister. I've presented three solutions to this convoluted affair. I leave it up to you to decide which one to present to the press later today.”

Justin cleared his throat. “I confess, I quite like the first solution. What do you think, Hermione?”

“I think Hannah should decide,” said Hermione after a moment's pause. “She discovered the evidence most suggestive of foul play, namely, the fresh water in Umbridge's lungs.”

Hannah frowned for a moment, and then reached down the front of her robes to withdraw a necklace with a small brass tube hanging from it. She unscrewed the top and withdrew a yellowed, worn piece of parchment that Minerva recognised with a smile. On it was a list of names, which included her own, her husband's, Hermione's and the Minister's, above which was written “Dumbledore's Army” in faded ink. Minerva handed it to Hermione, who passed it to Justin and at last to Severus.

“The first solution must be correct,” said Hannah, accepting the parchment back from Severus. “I reckon my imagination ran away with me during the forensics investigation. Perhaps Neville and I should take a break from Muggle television.”

“That's settled then,” said Minerva, sitting back. “Now, Hermione, Justin, do hurry along to the Great Hall. I'm certain people will be arriving soon for the press conference. Severus, I believe you owe me a game of chess.”

An expression of naked, reluctant hope flashed across Severus's features, and he seized Hermione's hand, drew her to him, and kissed her soundly.

She was smiling when they parted, and she squeezed his hand before departing Minerva's office with the Minister. Hannah followed them, shaking her head incredulously.

“Can I offer you tea?” she asked him. “Something a bit stronger?”

“Whisky,” he said brusquely, summoning Minerva's chess set from where it sat in the corner. The knights protested until they saw who was sitting opposite Minerva.

Minerva poured a tot for Severus and one for herself.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” said Minerva, rising her glass to Severus.

“Hem hem!” he said. 

Minerva nearly choked on her whisky and settled for sputtering noisily.

“Apologies,” said Severus, not looking sorry at all. “What I meant, of course, was 'Hear hear.'”  
The End  


**Author's Note:**

> Enormous thanks to JS for beta-reading so beautifully under extraordinarily awful circumstances. Smooches to Dickgloucester for advice on train terminology, adoration to Shiv5468 for Brit-picking, and love to the glorious SSHG Giftfest mods for making this fest happen! I would also like to thank my recipient for this prompt, the reading of which caused this story to spring forth from my head all but fully formed. Of course, this story owes an enormous debt to Agatha Christie's “Murder on the Calais Coach,” also known as “Murder on the Orient Express,” and the numerous adaptations thereof, which I've loved since my teens. It was teens. It was an unadulterated pleasure to adapt it.


End file.
